Acceptance
by resauthor
Summary: This story takes place shortly after Chris and Rita's first night together. The emotion, the worries, the risk. A bit of romantic fluff.


**Author's Notes**: Yes, I am still avoiding the longer stories that need my attention. But I recently found the first half of this one forgotten and unfinished in a subfolder of a subfolder named "A drive finds" on my laptop. It was saved as CM26. So maybe there were supposed to be 26 Classic Moments stories instead of 25? Who knew? It is truly an unexpected find. Because it survived so many hardware and software upgrades over the last two decades, I felt a responsibility to complete it and give it a home. It was also one of only three Classic Moments stories where I was inspired to create a quote to place under the title. The Guarded Heart is another example. This particular short story takes place over a twenty-four-hour period. It is not a continuation or prequel to any other CM story. It is not based on a scene from the show. It's a quick Classic Moments tale (aka fluff piece) that exists to re-imagine the days right after their first night together. I'm a sucker for romance with a dash of humor and angst thrown in for good measure. That's all it is folks! If anyone is bored with yet another examination of Chris and Rita's feelings during this transitional period in their relationship – this might not be the story for you. Canon is off on a hike as usual, but you might recognize some bits of dialogue stolen from Season Five. True to form, I may or may not have switched around who says what.

**Acceptance**

"Bravery of heart

Tempers fear

Scales fortresses

Captures fair love"

by: resauthor

**The double doors** to the Homicide Department swung open and Rita Lance glanced up, annoyed by the sudden nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She lowered her head in disappointment as two uniformed officers entered the room. She had to quit overreacting this way. He had walked through those doors thousands of times before. Chris Lorenzo was her partner, her best friend, the one person in her life she could trust above all others. Nothing had changed. It was a mantra she found herself repeating over and over again with increasing frequency.

"Morning!" The object of her thoughts called out as he blew into the department by way of the interrogation room hallway.

Rita nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I stopped by Marcel's," he announced, setting a crumpled white bakery bag on his desktop. "You okay?" His tone was light and teasing, but his smile faded as he caught sight of her expression.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a person that way," she stammered. Heaven help her, he was wearing a bright blue sports jacket over a white collarless shirt and black slacks. It was hard to not stare. It was even harder to not dwell on what she knew the shirt and slacks were hiding. Damn, damn, damn. How had she gotten herself into such a mess?

"Sorry, Sam." Chris was grinning again as he slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. His short dark hair glistened under the bright fluorescent lighting in the bullpen. He appeared to be in a great mood. "I need coffee. Can I get you a cup?"

"No, I'm fine"

"Rita…"

And just like that, just by saying her name out loud in that specific tone, the conversation had taken a more personal turn. He moved closer as if determined to capture her undivided attention. If only he could read her thoughts, he'd realize how unnecessary his efforts were.

"We agreed we should talk about this." She raised her head as she spoke and braved another direct look - a strategic error on her part. So much of what he was thinking and feeling could be read in those clear blue eyes. Just a few short weeks ago, he had been agonizing over Jillian's move to Massachusetts. Not too long after that, he had flown to Boston to pay her a visit. How had so much changed in so little time?

"Yeah, I know."

Chris perched on the edge of her desk as if ready to start that conversation right now. She did her best to ignore the material stretched tight across his…

"But not here," she added quickly.

"How about tonight?" He leaned forward, tilting his head to one side as he watched her.

The fluttering in her stomach was now a warming sensation. Memories of that first night spent in each other's arms brought a flush to her cheeks. The experience had been intense, to say the least, and Chris had been using words like fate and destiny ever since. In truth, he had mentioned fate once and destiny twice, but it was still too much. Those words belonged in fairy tales and she had given up on fairy tales a long time ago. They needed to discuss the situation, to really look at what had happened and why. Plans to explain this to him over dinner several nights later were abandoned within minutes of her arrival at his apartment. She chalked that little slip up to curiosity - a curiosity that had been appeased so many times she lost count over the course of the weekend. It had been so easy to let go of control, to live in the moment as if nothing existed beyond the four walls of Chris' loft. At least until Monday morning which brought the return of common sense and reason. For the last three days she had been avoiding all personal discussions.

"Diana is meeting us for drinks at Society tonight," she reminded Chris. "It's her birthday."

"I forgot it was this week."

"I can't cancel on her just because…"

He seemed surprised by her words. "I'm not asking you to."

"We agreed. Nothing has changed."

"I'm not so sure anymore."

Was Chris talking about the fact that he had said he was in love with her? She hadn't said the words back to him yet, not even in the throes of passion. And there had been plenty of throes, she reminded herself, ducking her head so he wouldn't spot her smile. When she glanced up again, he was staring at her, as if waiting for her to either argue or agree. It wasn't that simple. She cleared her throat and did what any brave, mature, modern-day woman did in the face of extreme pressure - she changed the subject. "It will be nice to see Diana again. She's only been gone six months, but it feels like years. If you can't make it, I'm sure she'll understand."

"I'll be there." The narrowed blue gaze assured her she wasn't fooling anyone.

"Good," she responded cheerfully.

….

**Chris returned Rita's smile** and made a determined effort to keep his hands to his side. One short week ago, he wouldn't have given a second thought to pulling her into a hug or touching her in any number of casual, but affectionate ways. A mere seven days ago he would have slapped himself upside the head for daring to sit around daydreaming about his best friend, remembering her naked in his bed, her arms and legs entwined with his, her bare breasts flush against his chest. But a lot had changed in that brief amount of time and there was no going back to the way things had been before. He didn't want to go back. All he had to do now was convince Rita that what they were experiencing was the real thing. Admittedly, with a track record like his, she had a right to be skeptical, but he had never really understood what it was to be in love before now. A bellow from his boss's office interrupted his train of thought.

"Lorenzo! I need to see you in my office."

"Be right there, Cap."

"Make it fast!"

"I'm coming… I'm coming." Chris grumbled. "Can we continue this over lunch?" He braced one hand on his partner's desk, the other on the back of her chair, purposely crowding her to get a response.

Rita appeared flustered. She ran a hand over the side of her neck and he immediately thought of a time when he had held her there, feeling her pulse quicken under his fingertips as his mouth moved over hers. Awash in memories, he called to her, "Sam?"

The woman of his dreams glanced up and held his gaze for a moment before quietly suggesting, "You'd better go see what the Captain wants."

Two steps forward, one step back.

He took her advice, acutely aware of the confusion in the green eyes that followed him.

….

"Chris, I'd like you to meet Sergeant Paul Dawson from Orlando."

"Nice tie," Chris commented as he shook hands with the visitor. Paul Dawson appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His blond hair was cut in a military-style crew cut, his dark suit and crisp white shirt seemed in keeping with his serious, professional demeanor. But the striped silk tie stood out. It was held in place with a gold tie clip fashioned in the shape of a famous cartoon mouse - an unexpected bit of whimsy on the part of the unsmiling stranger. Maybe there was a sense of humor hiding behind the dour exterior.

"Thank you," Paul responded flatly. The smile he offered did not reach his eyes.

Oh well, a sense of humor wasn't exactly a prerequisite for competent detective work. Chris waited for the Captain to explain why his presence had been requested.

"Orlando PD has sent Sergeant Dawson to Palm Beach to sit in on our interrogation of Adam Westlake." Harry Lipschitz returned to his chair, signaling for both detectives to take a seat before he continued. "I'd like you to bring him up to date on the arrest as soon as possible."

"But, Cap…"

"I realize you and Rita are shouldering a heavy load right now, Chris, but this won't take more than a few hours. Orlando PD thinks Westlake might be connected to a murder investigation they've been working on for the last few months."

"What about Sorenson? The case has been his from the beginning," Chris pointed out.

"Sorenson's wife is in labor as we speak and we only have a forty-eight-hour hold on this guy." The Captain glanced over the top of his glasses, a sure sign he was not in the mood to discuss the matter.

Chris did his best to appear interested in the discussion that followed, he even managed to put forth a few noteworthy suggestions, but his thoughts continually returned to the situation with Rita. Their first night together had set off a chain reaction in his personal life that showed no signs of abating. Nothing would ever be the same. From the food on his plate to the way the sun rose in the eastern sky each morning, it all looked different to him now. Unfortunately, Rita didn't seem to be reacting in quite the same way. Just last weekend, after finally getting her to agree to talk things out, he had invited her over for dinner - a dinner they hadn't ended up eating until 2 a.m. the next morning. He knew he was moving too fast for her, but an entire weekend spent in each other's arms left him more convinced than ever that they were meant to be together. It was fate, dammit. How could she doubt it? But Rita was once again hiding behind a barrier of politeness, claiming they needed to discuss the situation, but refusing to talk about either incident after their last attempt derailed.

"I hope we can be of some help to you on this," the Captain said, standing up to signal the end of the meeting.

"I appreciate that, Captain Lipschitz."

"Chris?"

"I'm on it." Chris accepted the file the captain handed to him. Cap would have both his badge and Rita's if he ever found out how far things had gone. "We'll check back with you later this afternoon."

Paul Dawson followed Chris to his desk and nodded politely in Rita's direction when Chris introduced him. "I realize I'm here solely for the Westlake interrogation, Sergeant Lance, but I've heard quite a bit about the Silk Stalking detail, and if you have a spare moment, I'd love to ask you a few questions about it before I head back to Orlando."

Chris raised an eyebrow as he called downstairs to make sure Westlake had been transferred to an interrogation room. Mr. Personality was certainly chatty all of a sudden. Probably had more to do with the deep V-neck of Rita's blouse than a burning curiosity about Palm Beach's unique homicide detail. It was always the quiet ones you had to watch. His gaze drifted back to his partner as she made small talk with their visitor. Was the smile on her face sincere? Dawson seemed to think so.

"I would be happy to answer any questions you might have," Rita assured the interloper.

Chris hung up the phone. The guy had a lot of nerve coming on to a woman he had known less than five minutes. "As would I," he put out there with no small amount of annoyance.

"Of course." Paul held out his hand to Rita. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sergeant Lance."

"Let's get this over with," Chris suggested, purposely interrupting. He led the way out of the department, holding the door open for Dawson so he could take a quick glance back at Rita. Her head was down. She appeared totally absorbed in her work again. How long would she continue to play this avoidance game? How long could she go on not talking to her best friend about the one subject neither one of them could stop thinking about? Sergeant Dawson cleared his throat, prompting Chris to follow him into the hallway. "Room 4," he instructed. Time to get down to business.

….

**Society was crowded** that night, forcing Diana and Rita to find seats at the bar as they waited for a table. Although the menu in this so-called 'cop bar' was limited, the food was good and the atmosphere fun. Many of the faces around them tonight were familiar. "So, tell me," Rita said, leaning closer to be heard above the music, "do you miss Palm Beach at all?"

Diana smiled. Her dark eyes shown with humor and affection. "You know I do. The decision to leave was a tough one."

"But you love the new job, right?"

"Absolutely. It's everything I hoped it would be."

Leaving Palm Beach to head the medical examiner's team in Fort Lauderdale had been a calculated risk for Diana, but the risk appeared to have paid off. And although they had managed to keep in touch by phone, it wasn't as often as either one of them would have liked.

"I am so happy for you." Rita had to speak loudly above the drone of piped-in music. Dressed for comfort in age-softened blue jeans, a fitted red t-shirt, and her favorite black leather jacket, she was feeling relaxed for the first time that day.

Their drinks arrived as they continued to chat about Diana's new job. Rita paused before taking the first sip. "To positive changes," she toasted.

"To positive changes," Diana echoed. "And speaking of changes…"

"What?" She had no idea why Diana was eyeing her expectantly.

Diana leaned closer with a conspiratorial smile. "Tell me all about him."

"Who?"

"That would be my first question."

"Mine, too. What are we talking about?"

"The new man in your life," Diana stated matter-of-factly. "I've known you too long to miss the signs, girlfriend. Tell me all about him. What is his name? Where did you meet? And how soon can I check him out and give you my approval?"

Rita blushed furiously and turned away, searching for a distraction. Diana was her closest female friend and confidante, no topic had been off-limits in the past, but she was in no way ready to discuss the situation between her and Chris. "You couldn't be more wrong," she managed to respond, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt.

Diana wasn't about to let her off the hook so easily. "Come on, Rita," she teased. "Fess up. You know you can't fool me."

There was nothing Rita could do but smile and take another long, slow sip of her drink. The white wine was dry and slid down her throat easily.

"Look who just showed up," Diana said, her smile widening.

Rita followed Diana's gaze to the glass double doors at the front of the establishment. Chris was just inside them, speaking to a woman who was wrapping her arms around his waist tighter than a snake wraps itself around the limb of an apple tree. Old flame?

"Babe of the week?" Diana asked innocently.

"No," Rita stammered. She cleared her throat and added, "As far as I know, he isn't seeing anyone right now. Not since Jillian."

Diana eyed her curiously. "You're not seeing anyone… he's not seeing anyone. What's wrong with you guys? So, you had a little bad luck in the romance department. You can't give up. You have to get back out there and find your soul mate."

"Soul mate?" Rita repeated in surprise. She tore her eyes away from the action across the room and met her friend's concerned glance. "You can't possibly believe in that romantic nonsense."

"Dee!" Their discussion was cut short as Chris arrived; enveloping Diana is a big hug. After releasing her, he stepped back and let his gaze sweep over her appearance. "You look fantastic, birthday girl!" he declared, oblivious to the stares of curious onlookers.

Diana did look fantastic, Rita admitted to herself. In her pale-yellow jacket and snug jeans, her dark hair cascading down her back, Diana was a classic beauty whose appearance never failed to turn heads when she entered a room. Naturally, Chris Lorenzo would be one of the first to appreciate such an attractive woman, even if she was a close friend and former colleague. Had he ever expressed anything other than a platonic interest in Diana? She shut down that line of thinking immediately. The sudden flares of jealousy were ridiculous. It had to stop.

"Rita tells me you aren't dating anyone right now."

Diana's question jolted Rita back to the present

"Is that what she said?" Chris asked. His steady gaze turned to Rita, daring her to comment.

"You aren't still pining for Jillian, are you?" Diana asked, her tone one of disbelief.

Chris laughed and slipped an arm around Diana's shoulders. "No. Things didn't work out with Jillian. I guess we weren't meant to be together."

"Amen to that. I didn't want to butt in at the time, but there was something about that woman that always bugged me.

"What about you, Dee?" Chris was quick to move the focus off of himself. "Seeing anyone special?"

"As a matter of fact, I did meet an interesting man a few weeks ago. His name is David and he's an attorney."

"Not a lawyer!" Chris teased.

…

**"Chris?"**

Chris turned to find a petite blonde standing behind him. She looked familiar, but her name escaped him. "Yes?"

"Would you like to dance?" She pointed to a far corner of the bar where several couples moved in time to the music.

"I'm sorry," he responded politely, "I'm visiting with friends right now. Maybe another time." After a brief nod of understanding, the woman departed.

"Some things never change," Diana laughed. She tipped her empty glass in his direction. "You still drinking the same thing?"

As Diana placed the order for a second round, Chris caught Rita's eye and shrugged his shoulders. She had drawn her own conclusions regarding the blonde. He could see it in her eyes, but she wouldn't ask any questions. She wouldn't cross into personal territory with him, even in jest, in front of Diana.

"You missed your chance."

The comment from Rita was a surprise. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Your friend found someone else to keep her company."

A glance over his left shoulder confirmed the fact that the petite blonde had indeed found someone to dance with. Someone who appeared to be very interested in her.

"She's not my friend," he answered in a soft but clipped tone.

"Can't remember her name?" Rita teased.

Was that a note of censure in her voice? If so, it only added fuel to the growing frustration he'd been struggling all day to control. "I think I'd better get going." Before his rising emotions got the better of him, he admitted to himself.

"Don't go," Diana said, turning back, her dark eyes full of unspoken questions. "You just got here."

He could offer no reassurance in response to her concern. It didn't surprise him that Diana would pick up on the tension between them. He looked back at his partner, as did Diana.

"Rita," Diana said, "tell this handsome man to take a seat and wait for his drink."

"Come on, Chris. Don't run off. You just got here."

Her expression seemed sincere, but there were undercurrents and double meanings to everything they said to each other lately. The decision was made for him when a table opened up and their drink order was taken straight over to it. It was Diana's birthday he reminded himself. She was spending the night at Rita's place but leaving early the next day to travel on to her parents' house. This would be their only opportunity to visit.

Once seated at the table he didn't have much to say, but it was easy to pass the time taking an occasional swig of beer and listening to the two women catch up on each other's lives. His gaze wandered to the nearest pool table where a lively game was in progress. Society was a safe haven for law enforcement personnel; a place to unwind with people who understood the complications of your day. He had complications, that was for sure. But not the type that could be discussed here.

He was eventually pulled into the conversation and everything seemed to go back to normal for a while. The verbal sparring between all three of them was back into play. The stories and jokes flowed fast and funny. It wasn't until a short time later when Diana excused herself and headed for the powder room that he felt the tension in his partner amp up again. He moved his chair closer to her, hoping for a private moment in this very public place. He gave no thought to how his action was perceived by those around him. The two of them were well known in the community. It was not out of the ordinary to see them huddling in a private conversation, whether work-related or not. It was common knowledge that their friendship was as strong as their partnership.

"Sam…" he purposely used the treasured nickname that had evolved into an endearment over the years.

"Chris Lorenzo! Where have you been hiding yourself these days?"

He closed his eyes for a second and exhaled slowly. This just wasn't his day. From the unexpected visitor from Orlando in the morning to the seventh level of social hell tonight in a cop bar of all places, nothing was going his way. When he opened his eyes again, she was still there - Sergeant Marilyn Maxwell. Two dates five years ago. She apparently felt it necessary to update him about her current position in Vice and her relationship with a detective from another precinct. Thankfully, the interruption this time lasted only slightly longer than it took to say hello and goodbye. He was finally alone with Rita again.

"Sorry about that," he muttered. Diana would return any minute. This was not the time nor the place for the discussion they needed to have, but he had to say something. He leaned forward, close enough to rest an arm across the back of her chair.

"No worries, I've gotten used to it over the years."

There it was again, that whiff of disapproval. Was it real or his overactive imagination? Too hard to tell right now. Making love had changed everything. How many warnings had they heard over the years about partners crossing that line? He was determined to avoid the stereotypical fallout - whatever it took.

"I need you to know something, Rita."

She looked him right in the eye, the only telltale sign of tension being the way she continued to play with the stem of her wineglass.

"I acknowledge my past, but I don't want to live there anymore." He ignored the arched eyebrow. He knew she was struggling with what had happened between them. "You want to ignore the present because you're uncomfortable with it. I'm willing to fight for our future."

She didn't pull away and she didn't bother to deny what he was saying, but her eyes did soften slightly as she continued to meet his gaze straight on. "Not here, Christopher."

It was the response he expected. She was right, but he was desperate. "Where then?"

"I've tried to explain it to you, Chris. My feelings have been all mixed up since that first night. I need breathing space; time to think."

Anything close to a personal conversation was a minefield right now, and humor, the age-old failsafe between them, could not be relied upon to ease the tension. But he knew her well enough to recognize the honesty of her words. She was putting herself out there, asking… no, begging… for the one thing he was afraid to give her. Time. Time in which to either accept what had happened between them or to rationalize it away.

His free hand closed over hers on the base of the wine glass. "Look… I don't think what happened between us was wrong, Rita. I can't go around pretending that what happened didn't happen. It was right. I think it's something we both wanted for a long time. We were ready."

She wanted to agree with him, he could tell by the way she leaned closer, absorbing his assurances. He knew how good the memories were that he had nudged back into her uppermost thoughts. They were deep, sensual, shared memories involving all five senses. But something internal was stopping her from meeting him halfway. He was praying for halfway. Anything was possible as long as she didn't shut him out, but he knew the instant the battle was lost. Her gaze had slid past to where Diana could be seen heading back in their direction. Her defenses went back up and the discussion was over. He let go of her chair and pulled away, out of their private huddle.

**Rita watched him closely**, wishing she could speak the words he wanted to hear. Wishing she could stop pushing him away. Maybe even wishing she could go home with him. But being alone with Chris right now was dangerous to her peace of mind. Without a doubt, they would end up in bed together again and clarity of thought would be thrown out the window. She had to get a handle on this before it affected their working relationship any more than it already had.

"Hey you two," Diana interrupted, undoubtedly wondering why the both of them looked up at her with guilt-ridden expressions. "Why are you both looking so serious? What did I miss?"

"Nothing. I was just telling Rita I need to get going." Chris stood up; his mood subdued as he gave Diana another affectionate hug. "It was great seeing you, Dee."

If there was some type of silent communication between Diana and Chris as he slowly released her, Rita couldn't decipher it. She remained in her chair, frozen in place as he headed toward the front doors. If she could have magically erased the last few minutes of conversation with him, she would have, but that was impossible. As was chasing after him to start the personal discussion she had been avoiding all week. She was more confused than ever.

"I don't know what's wrong between the two of you right now, but I saw his face. You need to go after him and fix it."

Diana's words pulled her out of her own thoughts. "It's complicated," was all she could offer. That was an understatement. The change in her relationship with Chris was far too fresh and unsettled to share with Diana. Or maybe the real reason she didn't want to explain anything was that telling Diana would ground the situation in reality and force her to make a decision.

Diana sat in the seat Chris had just vacated. Leaning forward, her words were rushed as she kept her eyes on his retreating figure. "It's Chris, Rita. Go talk to him."

"I can't."

"Whatever is wrong between the two of you, I know you can work it out. You've always been able to talk things through."

Diana was right, but Diana had no idea they were in uncharted territory this time.

"I've never seen you like this," Diana said. "The Rita Lance I know would not purposely hurt her best friend without good reason. Whatever that reason is, you need to deal with it."

"You don't pull any punches, do you?"

"Not when there is something wrong between two of the best people I know."

"It's your birthday, Diana. We're here to celebrate. I'm not going to leave you to…"

Diana cut her off quickly. "Go! Follow him! That's the best gift you could give me right now."

Rita took a deep breath as she glanced at the door. If she hurried, she'd be able to catch him before he reached his car. She looked at her friend one last time.

"I'll hold off ordering you a fresh drink," Diana promised. "If you come back, you can tell me all about it if you want. If you don't come back, I have a key to your place. I'll let myself in."

"That makes it sound like a…"

"Booty call?"

"Diana!"

"Is it? This could get interesting."

"No, it's not like that."

"A girl can dream. Get out of here!"

Rita took advantage of the chance to escape without having to explain. She grabbed her purse, headed for the glass doors at the entrance, and found herself outside on the sidewalk just in time to see Chris disappear around the corner of the building. She followed him into the parking lot.

The creaking sound of tired metal and rusty joints signaled the opening of the Charger's driver's side door.

"Chris!"

He looked up in surprise and watched her approach over the roof of his car, his expression hidden by the late hour and the lack of good lighting in the crowded lot. Knowing full well the next words out of her mouth would set the tone for this encounter, she chose carefully. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"It's okay, Rita. I shouldn't have pushed."

"We need to talk." How many times had that sentence been said in the last twenty-four hours?

"Come back to my place. I'll put a pot of coffee on."

His words called to her, luring her to him as surely as the hand that reached out and took hers. She didn't pull away.

….

**A wariness entered her eyes **despite the fact that her hand was in his and he immediately regretted the suggestion.

"We should stick to neutral ground."

Her response was proof that the misunderstandings continued.

"I didn't realize we were at war."

"That's not what I meant."

Was that hurt in her voice? He felt an instant twinge of remorse. "Name the place. I'll be there."

"It's already late. Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow."

Uh oh, she was back peddling already. He named the first place he could think of. "Café Cubana is open twenty-four hours. Call me and I'll meet you there after Diana gets settled at your place."

"North Beach?"

"That's the one." Their eyes remained locked and he held his breath, willing her to agree. She finally nodded and then turned to head back into the club. "Call me," he felt compelled to add.

"I will."

The words were said without a backward glance but he was satisfied with the small step forward. They were going to talk. That was a good thing. Now all he had to do was pull himself together and not scare her away with the strength of his convictions. Previous relationships were no help in guiding his actions tonight. No other woman had ever held this much power over his heart and his future. Deep down in his soul, he knew there would be no second chances. If she turned away from whatever this amazing thing was between them, if she chose to continue on as friends and partners but nothing more, he would respect her wishes, but the hurt would be unfathomable.

No. Past relationships had not prepared him for this moment. Even with Jillian, he had instinctively held back a piece of his heart and kept it safe. He knew that now. It happened any time a relationship turned too serious.

Until Rita.

….

Rita's Jeep was already parked in front of Café Cubana when Chris got there several hours later. The seaside coffee house was nowhere near as trendy as its name suggested, but fortunately for Emiliano, the proprietor who had opened the café more than twenty years earlier, the locals loved it. They preferred the mismatched furniture and colorful shabby chic decor to the glass and chrome atmosphere of its corporate competitors. A Cuban émigré, Emiliano's lyrical accent was almost as strong as the coffee he poured by the gallon each day.

It was a few minutes before midnight when Chris entered the nearly empty café. Emiliano was behind the counter, moving with quiet efficiency as he prepared for the after-hours rush that typically occurred when the neighboring bars and dance clubs closed for the night. He called out a greeting when he spotted Chris, nodding toward the side door.

Chris ordered a coffee, black, before crossing the room and heading out to the patio. He found Rita at the far corner of the paved area, sitting at one of the small cast iron tables, her back to the building as she stared out over the ocean. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene, but unable to stay away.

"Diana told me a little bit more about David after you left."

She knew it was him without having to turn around. Chris smiled as he dropped into the seat next to hers. She was beautiful, his partner, her features mysteriously shadowed by the flickering outdoor candle at the center of their table.

"Nice guy?" he asked, just to keep her talking.

"I think so." Leaning back in her chair, Rita hugged her jacket closer and turned her face up to the stars. A gentle breeze off the ocean moved through her hair, blowing stray strands across her forehead and into her eyes. She didn't bother brushing them away. "I'm happy for her. She deserves a little romance."

"And you?"

"Me?"

"What do you deserve, Sam?" It was difficult to keep his hands to himself when all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and remind her of the undeniable rightness of what they had shared. He refused to believe that their physical relationship was a mistake, but loving an intelligent woman had its own set of drawbacks. Rita would have to accept in her mind what had already been proven by their combined passion. They were meant to be together.

"Take a walk with me?" she asked.

The request was unexpected and he wondered if it was a delay tactic, but he was quick to agree, rising to his feet to follow her back toward the café. There was a walkway behind the building that led to an opening in the decorative fencing for access to the beach.

Chris was determined to start a conversation once they reached the sand, but his plans were forgotten when she turned to look back at him. The vulnerability in her eyes saddened him. He reached for his best friend and pulled her to him just as he had countless times in the past to offer comfort, but he didn't stop there. This time, he swung her around, drawing her away from the light above the delivery door entrance, pressing her back against the rear wall of the building. Adrenaline raced through a body already strained by close proximity. As soon as he realized what he had done, he released her and stepped back. Darkness hid her reaction as he struggled to control himself. "I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed in a rough whisper, "about what happened between us."

"Chris…" She spoke in a voice heavy with emotion; somehow chiding him and cherishing him at the same time. "We crossed the line."

"A line that no longer exists." His eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing him a glimpse of her soft, parted lips, dampened and waiting. "This thing between us, it's been there since the beginning, we just weren't ready to deal with it."

"Be honest, Chris. We weren't ready to risk our friendship or the job."

"I'm ready now." Ready and aching.

"But I'm not sure that I am."

He touched her face, his fingertips trailing over the gentle curve of her jaw as he bent down. "Come back to my place with me. We'll talk it out. Just talk."

"I can't do that, Chris." The words slipped out on short gusts of air. "You know what will happen. I don't want to cloud the issue…"

"Are you sure you know what the real issue is?" Love! he wanted to scream from the very depths of his soul, but he was standing too close, she smelled too good, and the intimate memories were just too damn strong. His mouth sought hers and he let everything else go as the kiss went on and on. Her arms slid around his neck, her slim, perfect body pressed full length against his greater mass and he couldn't think, couldn't reason about this sudden change in her. All he could do was deepen the kiss and hold on for dear life.

"I think you two ought to finish this at home. What do you say, Romeo?"

Chris froze where he was, shielding Rita from view. There could be no doubt about the identity of the police officer shining a high-powered flashlight in their direction.

"Officer Grodencek." He felt a gasp against his chest.

"Lorenzo?" Steel gray hair, steely blue eyes.

"Yes, ma'am. Hang on a minute, I'll get my ID."

"No need. I didn't recognize you at first, but now I do. I patrol this area every night between midnight and two a.m. Care to explain what's going on here?"

"Kind of obvious, isn't it?" Rita either liked his answer or the absurdity of the situation was finally getting to her because she had wrapped her arms around his waist and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her snug position against his chest.

"Aren't you a little too old for this type of behavior?"

Rita's hands slid lower under his jacket and it was all he could do to swallow his groan. "I'm off duty, Grodencek. A man has to unwind somehow."

"Maybe you ought to do your unwinding at home or in a motel?"

"Turn the damn flashlight off and we'll be on our way."

"Certainly, Sergeant."

The damning spotlight disappeared, returning the compromised couple to the dark shadows against the rear of the building.

"But I'd like to hear something from the lady if I'm correct in my assumption that you've got a lady hidden back there with you."

"Of course, it's a lady," he ground out, wondering if there was any way he could convince his stone-faced colleague to forget this little incident had ever happened. "I'm sure you can understand why my friend would rather remain anonymous."

"No."

"No?"

"Come on, Lorenzo, you know you're a handsome, healthy hunk of manhood. Unless there's something going on here that shouldn't be going on, there's no reason for anyone to hide. Heck, I'd have asked you out myself if I were ten years younger."

Healthy hunk of manhood? Rita was silently shaking with laughter against his chest.

Officer Grodencek's radio squawked loudly at that moment and he considered it a gift from the gods. He watched as she returned to her patrol car, the patrol car he hadn't heard pull into the parking lot less than ten feet away from where he and Rita now stood. After a short conversation with dispatch, the uniformed officer leaned in to replace the mic and then turned back to Chris.

"I'd better finish my rounds. Enjoy the rest of the night, Sergeant Lorenzo." Just before ducking into the driver's side of the car, she added, "You, too, Sergeant Lance."

He felt Rita stiffen in shock as he watched the patrol car disappear from sight.

"How?" was all she could manage to ask.

"Maybe it was just a guess."

He watched her digest that possibility. It was a slim hope, at best. The thought of their secret being out so early in what he hoped was a new phase of their relationship was sobering. Rita was thinking the same thing he was. He could see it in her eyes. If Grodencek were to broadcast her suspicions they would be at risk of being censured or split up. Many of the same doubts that had been plaguing his partner were now running through his head as he assessed the possible fallout. Unfortunately, his body had not yet received the memo. He was still pressed against her, his hands wrapped firmly around the soft black leather covering her upper arms; his body pinning her close to the building. He could feel every movement she made, every breath. He forced himself to do the right thing. He took a step back, but his mind continued racing. What would life be like if their time together was reduced to weekly dates and passion-filled nights? Would that be enough? Was he ready to look across his desk into the face of a new partner? Rita was right. There was a lot to consider. But there was also a lot to gain.

"Stay a little longer," he requested quietly.

"Of course," she agreed with a nod, wrapping her arms around herself.

He kept his distance as they returned to the patio area and reclaimed their seats. As much as he would have enjoyed a walk on the beach, there was an intimacy to the darkness at the water's edge that didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. The coffee he had left on the table was still there. He took a sip and grimaced. It was lukewarm but still potent. No worries. Sleep would be impossible tonight anyway. He followed Rita's gaze and stared out at the water. Lights twinkled in the distance as unseen watercraft slid through the black night. The tranquility and vastness of the ocean were like a salve to his tired spirit.

"I'm sorry about our conversation earlier."

He didn't respond right away.

"At Society…" she added. "I don't want things to change between us, but I feel they already have." When she turned to look at him, her eyes were dark and enigmatic.

"I know," he assured her. "Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

Sitting at the small table, they remained the only two patrons outside on this balmy Florida night. His heart nearly skipped a beat when her left hand reached over and took hold of his right, pulling it into her lap. He repositioned his chair close enough for their shoulders to touch. He didn't bother to lie and say it was for warmth. They both knew better. The need for a physical connection between them was like breathing. Always had been.

It wasn't until the after-hours crowd started arriving that they both realized it was time to leave.

"I'd better get home."

She was right. He pushed aside any feelings of defeat as they both rose to their feet and reentered the café. They hadn't talked much, but the time spent alone in each other's company, even if it was spent mostly in silence, felt like the small reset they needed after an emotional week. With a final brief wave at Emiliano, they left by the front door. He walked her to the Jeep and opened the driver's side door.

….

**Rita paused **before slipping into the safety of her vehicle. Leaning forward, she closed the distance between them before common sense and rational thinking could change her mind. The soft material of her leather jacket pressed against his bright blue coat.

"You know I have feelings for you," she said in a hushed voice.

"I wouldn't be fighting for us if I didn't believe that."

He was waiting for her to speak. She could feel his intensity.

"And if Grodencek says something?"

"I don't think she will, but you're right. Her appearance tonight was a reminder of the risk we'd be taking."

And that was what lay at the heart of the matter. The risk of losing him both personally and professionally. Did she love him? Of course, she loved him. She knew that without question. But this wasn't just about love. It was about being "in" love. It was about sex and the way an intimate relationship could change a treasured friendship and a successful professional partnership. They had spent nearly six years acknowledging the physical attraction that had always been between them and consciously choosing to ignore it for the sake of their friendship and the job. But ignoring it did not change the fact that all those years had also been spent teetering on the precipice of something far greater. Something that, once unleashed, they both instinctively knew would be too powerful to control. "How can you be so sure this will work out?" she asked.

Chris was caressing her neck, nuzzling the side of her throat. He was impossible to resist. They kissed softly, briefly, and then severed the connection, both determined to stop before anyone going into the cafe noticed what they were doing. But the pull of desire was too strong, the softness of his lips too addicting. They kissed quickly, again and again. Solid arms tightened around her, holding her close, his familiar scent tickling her senses, bringing back memories of a shared morning shower.

"You're the most important person in my life, Rita. We've tried to ignore this thing between us, we've tried to play it safe, but we can't any longer. And to be honest, if what you feel about me is anywhere near as powerful as what I feel about you, we shouldn't waste another moment worrying about the consequences."

"Even after what nearly happened with Grodencek?" she murmured against his mouth.

"Even after that." He was about to kiss her again but paused as oncoming headlights illuminated the Jeep. The approaching car slowed down to turn into the parking lot.

Rita pulled away, suddenly shy. "After you left Society tonight, Diana and I stayed for a while. Something she said really made me think."

Blue eyes, softened by desire, waited expectantly.

"We were talking about love."

The arched eyebrow in response was accompanied by a grin.

"Regarding her relationship with David," she was quick to explain.

"Uh-huh."

He didn't quite believe her, but that was okay. "It was something her mother told her recently. She said that real love is rarer than most people think. It isn't what you read about in fairy tales. There are no guaranteed happy endings. It takes work and commitment, the ability to accept someone else's imperfections and never give up."

"Go on…"

"But what really struck me was that she said when you truly love someone, you create a foundation of trust and understanding with that person that shouldn't leave room for doubts. And it can't exist without friendship being part of the equation."

Diana's mother, who had been married almost forty years, had also told her daughter that in a long loving relationship words were often unnecessary, taking a back seat to a special look, a single touch, or a heartfelt smile. Rita had sat in Society listening to Diana's hopes for her relationship with David, knowing that all these things Diana's mother had pointed out were already true in her own life with Chris. No need to mention that to her partner right now.

"I'd better go," she admitted reluctantly. The parking lot was starting to fill up as the hour neared 2 a.m.

"Call me when you get home?" he asked, still staring into her eyes. "I'll feel better if I know you got there safely."

"I'll call," she assured him.

….

Rita let go of her pillow as she rolled onto her back and groaned. Flinging an arm over the side of her bed, she fumbled with the alarm clock, searching blindly for the snooze button. How could it possibly be 7 a.m. already? If not for the sunlight peeking in through the blinds, she would have sworn it was still hours till dawn, mere minutes since she had first fallen asleep. Grabbing a handful of the top sheet, she pulled it up to her chin and rolled on to her side, snuggling deep down into the bedding.

"Good morning."

The sound of a human voice, even one as husky and familiar as his, prompted a lightning-fast reassessment of her situation. Memories of the previous night came flooding back, bringing a blush to her cheeks. No wonder her body ached in a dozen unfamiliar places. She had been as surprised as he was by her decision to call him on her drive home from the café and invite him over. Diana had decided to leave for her parents' house directly from Society earlier that night. A fact she had chosen not to share with Chris until the call.

She turned toward him slowly, green eyes peering out from her cocoon of pastel cotton.

He stood in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed in a gray PBPD T-shirt and matching sweat shorts. Probably from the gym bag kept in the trunk of his car. "I hope you're hungry," he said.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Self-consciously, she reached under the sheets to pull down the hem of the T-shirt she was wearing. If memory served, that was all she was wearing.

"We were up kind of late." He answered quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. "I thought you might need the rest."

Acknowledging the depth of their feelings for each other last night had opened up flood gates that would be impossible to close. She knew this. She accepted it. With that acceptance firmly in place, they couldn't seem to get enough of each other. Glancing up, her gaze was caught by crystal blue eyes that searched her features.

"You okay?" he asked, clearly worried that she might be experiencing another crisis of faith. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt them tingle. The hot sweet taste of him was burned into her memory. Lifting a hand to the back of his head, she pulled him closer. His mouth grazed over hers and she groaned, wrapping both arms around his neck, opening herself up to him by deepening the kiss.

The intensity of their lovemaking was nearly frightening at times. It was difficult to acknowledge her own lack of control.

The bedside alarm went off again, signaling the end of their ten-minute reprieve. Rita frowned as Chris reached over and silenced the offending noise.

There was no question that he was just as affected by all this as she was. "You've been cooking," she murmured drowsily as he placed quick, hungry kisses against the side of her face and neck.

Chris didn't answer right away, intent on his exploration of her sensitized skin. He tugged on the neckline of her T-shirt, pulling it aside to taste the base of her throat. His free hand slid lower, molding the thin cotton sheet around the curve of her hips.

"I don't suppose I could talk you into…"

She smiled knowingly, placing a hand against the side of his face as she ran her thumb over his pouting lower lip. "Behave yourself, Sam. You need to go by your place and change. If we're both late, the Captain will pitch a fit."

"You're right," he mumbled, pressing his mouth into the palm of her hand, "but I'd much rather spend the day here in bed with you."

Publicly pretending that nothing had changed between them was going to be difficult. "I need to get dressed," she whispered, softening the reminder with a lingering kiss.

Chris was pressing her full length into the mattress one minute, and out of bed, on his way downstairs, the next. "Hurry it up," he called back to her. "Breakfast is on the table."

Rita sat up and attempted a deep centering breath. It wasn't very effective. His scent was everywhere - on her clothing, the sheets, and even her skin. No wonder her body still hummed with arousal. Running a hand through sleep tousled hair, she shook her head in amazement. Two weeks ago, she would have laughed at anyone who dared to predict this scenario.

"Do you need some help up there, Sam?"

The question and all of its obvious interpretations got her attention, but it was the sidelong glance at the clock that had her scrambling out of bed.

The topic of her conversation with Diana came to mind once again as she rushed through her morning routine. Love was a gamble, but in her case, there was no way to hide from it anymore. The last week had placed her and Chris at a crossroads that neither had foreseen when he flew to Boston to talk with Jillian. Chris had come to terms with his feelings quicker than she had for reasons they had yet to discuss, but that didn't surprise her. Love wasn't perfect. They wouldn't always be on the same page at the same time. Passion, joy, and sadness would ebb and flow like the tide, but their commitment to each other, the same commitment that had grounded their friendship and partnership for the past six years, would see them through it all.

Every important decision in life involved risk. In the wee morning hours standing outside of Café Cubana, the time had come for her to listen to her heart. To put it all on the line or retreat to safety.

She chose love.

Her stomach growled. She took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. A final check in the bathroom mirror was not encouraging but she smiled anyway. How could anyone not know what they had been up to?

"Coffee's getting cold, Sam!"

"I'll be right down!"

The End

Classic Moments 2000? - 2019

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